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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28102899">pink in the night</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwAgAmAnDeR/pseuds/sugaxyy'>sugaxyy (SwAgAmAnDeR)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Happy Ending, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Kuroken if you squint, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, University Student Akaashi Keiji, University Student Bokuto Koutarou, no sexual abuse happens between bokuaka this is all about processing trauma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:41:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,940</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28102899</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwAgAmAnDeR/pseuds/sugaxyy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Frankly, Akaashi didn’t tell Bokuto about it because he didn’t need to know.</p><p>They were fine. Bokuto Koutarou and Akaashi Keiji had been happily in love ever since they met, a million years ago when Akaashi was a fresh face at Fukurodani. Their friends were jealous of their eerie synchronicity, they were a striving power couple, and Akaashi could honestly say he would be content to spend the rest of his days by Bokuto’s side. All of these great things had happened without Bokuto knowing about his past. And so, there was no reason for him to find out now, when Akaashi was 21 and they had already been together for four years.</p><p>Akaashi Keiji and Bokuto Koutarou were absolutely, one hundred percent, overwhelmingly assuredly fine.</p><p> </p><p>or, the one where Akaashi has trauma, Bokuto finds out, and they work through it together</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>214</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>pink in the night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING!!!! for sexual abuse, specifically child sexual abuse. there is also a panic attack</p><p>this was written as a way to process my own trauma. i am not trying to romanticize anything. i added the rape/noncon warning as a precaution, and it is the main focus of this fic. please take caution if the themes listed are triggering for you.</p><p>there is a semi explicit scene where sexual abuse of an adult Akaashi is described. you can skip from "It really wasn't a lot of work" to "Akaashi ran upstairs to his room" if you would prefer not to read this. please dm me or comment if you would like a summary of what happens in this section. however, again, please note that this entire fic discusses sexual abuse and can be triggering.</p><p>i process trauma by projecting it onto fictional characters. there is a specific lack of this type of trauma in the fandom (for good reason), but my hope is that by writing this someone else who has been in the same shoes can perhaps find some temporary peace. also, it is nice to know that you are not alone in your experiences.</p><p>anyways, please enjoy. the title is from the mitski song of the same name.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Frankly, Akaashi didn’t tell Bokuto about it because he didn’t need to know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were fine. Bokuto Koutarou and Akaashi Keiji had been happily in love ever since they met, a million years ago when Akaashi was a fresh face at Fukurodani. Their friends were jealous of their eerie synchronicity, they were a striving power couple, and Akaashi could honestly say he would be content to spend the rest of his days by Bokuto’s side. All of these great things had happened without Bokuto knowing about his past. And so, there was no reason for him to find out now, when Akaashi was 21 and they had already been together for four years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How would that conversation even start? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hey Bokuto, so I know this out of the blue, but I was actually molested when I was a child. Crazy, right?! Why didn’t I bring it up before now? Well, I only recently remembered most of it myself. I’m </span>
  </em>
  <span>not </span>
  <em>
    <span>making it up though, I swear!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Even then, Akaashi feared Bokuto’s reaction. Akaashi knew for a fact he wouldn’t be disgusted or angry, he was too nice for that, although he did fear the pity that would probably come. He could picture it, Bokuto’s round eyes glistening, staring at him as if he were some broken thing, a bird fallen from the nest, broken wing and all. He’d probably even be afraid to touch him, as if Akaashi would crumble into dust if he dared lay his hands on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, it wasn’t a matter of Bokuto not accepting what had happened; it was a matter of Bokuto accepting it to the point that it changed how he looked at Akaashi. Simply put, he couldn’t handle that. Akaashi knew that Bokuto treasured him, held him close to his heart just as Akaashi did with him, and also he knew that Bokuto would rather change his behavior than risk hurting Akaashi.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi knew that it would probably hurt Bokuto, too. Bokuto was a man who opened his heart for the world to see and for the world to accept. This was one of many things that made Akaashi’s chest stutter when he looked at the man, but there was also the flip side. An unguarded heart was prone to getting hurt, and Akaashi wasn’t so blinded in his insecurity to see that for Bokuto, this would be a major hurt. He was too empathetic for his own good sometimes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though they both brought each other up, Akaashi was well aware he was the more emotionally stable one in the relationship at times. He kept his heart, especially the part that this situation concerned, under lock and key and more locks and more keys, and to open it, even for Bokuto, felt uncomfortable at best and reality-shattering at worst.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, they were fine as they were. They loved each other. They worked through their minimal arguments maturely. They had a healthy (actually, great) sex life. They both were excelling in their budding careers and they both had a good social life within and outside of their relationship. Akaashi felt happy and he was certain Bokuto felt the same. He told him so often that Akaashi couldn’t even be paranoid about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi was a firm believer in not trying to fix something that wasn’t even broken in the first place, so he wouldn’t “fix” this because they were fine. Akaashi Keiji and Bokuto Koutorou were absolutely, one hundred percent, overwhelmingly assuredly </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, the holidays rolled around.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The fact that Akaashi and Bokuto were both from Tokyo was priceless during the holiday season. They could travel together, spend the holiday together, socialize together, meet family together. Akaashi knew other couples who weren’t so lucky. Miya-san, Bokuto’s teammate from their university’s volleyball team, had to leave his Tokyo-born girlfriend for Kansai each year. He moaned and groaned about it at length to anyone who would listen for at least a month prior and post.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, holiday planning for the two of them was simple. They would travel from their shared apartment in the university district to the Akaashi home in Southeast Tokyo, spend a few days there, then head to the Bokuto residence in central Tokyo, before heading back to their apartment in time for the New Year. Yearly shrine visits were a tender tradition that they shared with each other and only each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite technically living in the same city, the wide expanse of Tokyo and the busy happenings of their professional and academic lives made it so that visiting family was a few-times-a-year ordeal, with Bokuto visiting his more often than Akaashi. Though Bokuto didn’t know the full breadth of what had happened in the Akaashi household, he did know the relationship between him and his parents wasn’t all that great. It had been part of what they bonded over in high school when they first met. Koutarou, in all his shining light and kindness, had helped Keiji learn exactly what a healthy family looked like, and had also been there for him when Keiji realized that his family wasn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite this, Akaashi still maintained a relationship with his parents. Even after remembering what had happened to him - </span>
  <em>
    <span>the touches</span>
  </em>
  <span> - nothing was bad enough to warrant ruining the relationship, in his opinion. His mother had touched him since he was a small child, and the frequency had only gone down over time, so as sick as he knew it sounded, he was used to it. Especially now that he was out of their home, on most days he could live his life without even thinking about it. He couldn’t fault his father for it, either, as he was mostly sure that the man (as well as anyone else in his family) was unaware of what his mother did to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, the holidays. Freshly into their university break, Keiji and Koutarou walked from the nearby train station to the Akaashi residence. They each held a suitcase in their hands and Akaashi knew without a doubt that Bokuto’s was full of ugly Christmas sweaters with cheesy English phrasings. Their shoulders bumped as they walked side by side in the chilly December air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keijiiiii,” Bokuto groaned, throwing his head back. “What if they don’t like me this year?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They like you every year, Kou,” Akaashi reassured him. This was a yearly conversation, word for word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But that’s what I’m saying, maybe it changed,” he enthused, looking at Akaashi with wide eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My parents love you, Koutarou.” He made a point of meeting Bokuto’s eyes. Regardless, he knew there was nothing that he could say right now that would calm Bokuto’s racing mind. “Why don’t you ask them if they need help with anything around the house? I’m sure they’ll appreciate that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto’s eyes lit up with revelation. “Yes, Keiji, you’re a genius.” He whipped his head around, looking for witnesses, before leaning over to give Akaashi a quick peck on the cheek. It left a warm spot, burning in contrast to the cool winter weather. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cute</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Akaashi thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before long, they reached Akaashi’s childhood home. In the years since Akaashi had gone to university, the exterior had not changed at all. The same old shrubbery leading up to the front door, the same old dull brown paint, the same old crack in the attic window were all waiting for him, welcoming him home. It was jarring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a deep breath and rapped loudly on the door. He could feel Bokuto’s warmth behind him, the man bouncing on his heels in anticipation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took a few moments before the door was swung open by Keiji’s mother. She was dressed in a peach-colored apron and her black hair was pulled back into a sleek, low ponytail. She, too, hadn’t changed much from the last time that Akaashi had seen her, minus a few wrinkles pointing from her eyes to her ears. The smell of comfort food wafted from behind her. “Keiji!” she gushed, a wide smile on her face, and rushed forward to envelop him in a hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His stomach twisted, deep and ugly. He forced a smile onto his face and weakly hugged her in return. “Okaasan. Happy holidays.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, it’s so good to see you two,” she enthused, still grasping onto Keiji.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for letting me into your home, Akaashi-san,” Bokuto exclaimed as if the words had been pushing to get out the whole time. He bowed deeply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Koutarou,” she laughed and finally released Keiji, moving over to dig Bokuto out of his bow and into a hug. “You know to call me Okaasan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unlike Akaashi, Bokuto hugged his mother deeply and firmly. He smiled as he thought, not for the first time, that Bokuto perfectly fulfilled all the pieces of him that were incomplete.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Okaasan,” Bokuto beamed. “Can I help with dinner? Or anything else you need?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mother pulled away from the hug and chuckled. She placed a hand on her son’s shoulder and he tensed. He tried to sidestep away as subtle as possible. Luckily, no one drew attention to it. “Look how helpful your boyfriend is, Keiji. Maybe he should teach you a thing or two about helping your mother out. But no, Koutarou, this is your break. Please relax with Keiji. Dinner will be ready shortly. Your father is working late, so it will just be us until tomorrow, most likely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you again.” Bokuto bowed again, deep as always. “I have been looking forward to your cooking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I am so glad.” His mother smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi walked into the house and began walking to his bedroom, Bokuto trailing close behind. His mother split off to go to the kitchen. Now that they were adults, his parents had no issue with the couple sharing Akaashi’s bed for the few days they were here. For all of the issues his parents had, he was grateful that they had always been extremely accepting of his sexuality and his relationship with Bokuto, even going so far as accepting him as their own son.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though the exterior of his house was eerily identical to his past memories, the interior was not, he realized as he walked up the stairs to his room. There were pictures of Akaashi literally everywhere. Every table, shelf, and wall had a picture of Akaashi propped up on it. It made him cringe. His mind left the present moment, dropping him off in his freshman year of college, during a phone call with his mother while Bokuto was off at class.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You never visit me anymore, Keiji. Apparently going to university means you no longer think of yourself as my son. I get so lonely. How could you leave me, Keiji? You’re content to let your mother just sit in this big house and rot by herself? You know your father is hardly home. How could you-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Keiji!” Bokuto exclaimed, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Look at this one!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi blinked and peered at the frame which Bokuto was pointing to. This one in particular had been hung up on the wall at the top of the stairs. It was a photo taken in the middle of a Fukurodani volleyball game, mid-action. Which one, Akaashi couldn’t specify, but the shot was clear. Akaashi’s arms were held toward the sky, tips of his toes barely touching the ground, eyes trained on Bokuto as if he were the only player on the court. Bokuto was a few paces away, flying in the air, body curled, his hand a moment away from spiking the ball which Akaashi had just set. His heart thumped fondly at the scene. “It’s a good picture,” he smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think your mom could print another one for the apartment?” Bokuto wondered as they continued to his room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll have to ask,” Akaashi mused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They reached his room, Bokuto setting his suitcase on the floor and flopping face-first onto the bed. Akaashi smiled, looking around his room. At the very least, nothing had changed here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto shifted his body so he was laying properly in the bed and patted the space next to him. It squeaked loudly under his weight. “Come on, Keiji,” he said, arms open. “Just like high school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi laughed and set down his suitcase next to Bokuto’s before climbing in bed next to him. It wasn’t just like high school. Eager anxiety was replaced with wholehearted contentment. Akaashi could remember their first kiss in his bed, a week after their first-ever kiss, when they were still unsure and hesitant. Those kisses were different than these ones. Those kisses were surrounded by scrunched up eyes, red faces, and electric touches. Now, as Bokuto lightly kissed him in his childhood bed, it lifted him up, giving him confidence, making his chest feel warm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Much different from high school. It was the same Koutarou, though. The one that looked at Akaashi like he was the world and told him as much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ug,” Akaashi groaned and buried his face into Bokuto’s broad chest, glasses pinching his nose, not caring much that his hair was probably a wreck by now. This bed was a full, a bit smaller than the queen at their apartment, so they had to press up against each other more so than usual. This wasn’t unwelcome.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Bokuto moved back to crane his neck down towards him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just love you so much,” Akaashi sighed, muffled, into the fabric.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto giggled - </span>
  <em>
    <span>giggled! </span>
  </em>
  <span>- and hugged him tighter, moving down to plant kisses on the top of his head. “That’s not a bad thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It overwhelms me, Kou.” He was smiling, hard, into his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you’re supposed to be the stable one in this relationship.” Bokuto was still giggling and kissing his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m still stable.” Akaashi scooted himself up once again, moving to kiss Bokuto’s lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto kissed him back, sweetly. The warm feeling was back in his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before the pair could do much more than just look at each other, his mother’s voice called out from downstairs that dinner was ready. Bokuto all but shot out of bed, frantically smoothing his shirt back down. Akaashi sighed and began to fix his appearance as well, knowing his mother would comment on it if he didn’t.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Dinner went well. His mother had cooked one of his favorite comfort foods, nanohana no karashi-ae. The bitter taste of the family recipe reminded him of his childhood, in a good way. She had even splurged on some expensive meat for Bokuto, which he quickly devoured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was times like these that made Akaashi question his self-imposed distance from his parents. Bokuto got along perfectly with them. They weren’t cruel; they were kind and interested. His mother showed genuine interest in both Akaashi’s literary work and Bokuto’s volleyball and asked questions about them all night long. She and Bokuto laughed and shared jokes, and apparently, they even had each other’s phone numbers, something Akaashi was unaware of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeing them interact like this, as if things were perfectly healthy, made Akaashi wonder not for the first time if he was actually the problem. His mind drifted, and he wondered, if Bokuto ever </span>
  <em>
    <span>were </span>
  </em>
  <span>to find out about what his mother did, would he believe him? Bokuto was kind and he loved Akaashi, so of course, he would say he did, but would there be a part of him that secretly figured he was making it all up? That his mother was too nice to ever do something like that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi himself wondered if maybe he was making it up. Looking at the woman in front of him, laughing and talking and </span>
  <em>
    <span>loving</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he couldn’t picture her doing something so insidious. He had learned about implanted memories in his psychology class his freshman year, so maybe this was some version of that. When you’re a kid, it’s easy to misinterpret things.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But then again, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought to himself, </span>
  <em>
    <span>she did it to you until you moved out.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His stomach turned icy at that thought, mood suddenly soured. Bokuto and his mother were still laughing amicably. He needed to stop thinking about this or else he was going to make a fool of himself. He focused on the fancy dinner plate in front of him, counting the flowers printed on it, when-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keiji?” Bokuto’s voice cut through to his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” His head snapped up, glasses sliding down his nose from the force. They were both looking at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright? You seemed zoned out.” Bokuto’s features were laced with concern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi shook his head. “Sorry, Bokuto-san, Okaasan. I’m just tired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” his mother laughed. “You won’t be getting out of dishes that easily.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll help!” Bokuto exclaimed, because he was Bokuto, the type of person who jumped at the chance to help his boyfriend’s mother do the dishes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did I tell you, Koutarou?” She smiled at him warmly. “It’s your break, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>you’re a guest in the Akaashi home. Please go relax, Keiji and I will be done soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto opened his mouth to protest, but Akaashi cut him off. “It’s fine, Bokuto-san. Why don’t you go take a shower while you wait?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto thought for a moment before nodding. He stood and bowed, thanking Akaashi-san for the meal once more before giving Keiji a chaste kiss on the cheek and heading upstairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The towels are in the cabinet above the sink!” His mother called as Bokuto’s head of grey and black hair disappeared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s a great man, Keiji,” she smiled, quieter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He is,” he agreed simply. He could go on for days about the reasons he loved Koutarou, but he didn’t really care to speak to his mother on it. Though he couldn’t prove it beyond simple intuition, he sometimes felt her affection was fake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood and began gathering dishes. He reached below the sink, surprised to find his washing gloves still there, before turning on the warm water and beginning his chore. His mother stepped into the kitchen with the remaining dishes before disappearing off to somewhere else in the house. Akaashi felt a conflicting twist of emotions; disappointed his mother was leaving him alone to work, yet relieved to be by himself. The yellow light above the sink buzzed with electricity, grating and uncomfortable</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It really wasn’t a lot of work, and washing dishes was one of the household chores he didn’t mind all that much, so it went quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had two serving dishes and a frying pan left when a hand placed itself on his lower back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dropped the sponge and pan in shock, a loud clatter resonating through the kitchen. Luckily, the sounds of the shower must have blocked out the commotion, because Bokuto didn’t come running from upstairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hand didn’t move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keiji,” his mother tsked. “It’s just me. You always flinch like this when I touch you, like I’m going to hurt you. I’ve never hurt you, Keiji.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi stood unmoving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you going to pick it up?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi swallowed and bent down, hand temporarily leaving his back. He winced as it returned once he was upright again. The light above the sink buzzed annoyingly, the sound reaching the inside of his skull, between his ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, he regretted being polite at dinner. He wishes he would have made his mother do the dishes by herself, told her ‘no’ no matter how rude it was or what type of shocked look Bokuto would have sent him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is what she did. She got him alone. She knew he would never fight back or make a scene, so she got him alone. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The only reason it ever stopped happening, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought to himself in a moment of clarity, </span>
  <em>
    <span>is because I stopped letting myself be alone with her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet, here he was. Alone with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi resumed washing the dishes, albeit quicker this time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wordlessly, her hand moved lower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi stopped, paralyzed. He was certain his heart was going to beat out of his chest. His entire body screamed at him to run, but he couldn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep going, Keiji,” she whispered, sweetly. “It’s good to see you haven’t lost your tone after quitting volleyball.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi felt dizzy. He kept washing the dishes, working as quickly as possible while still doing a good enough job. If he didn’t, he would have to re-wash them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure Koutarou appreciates it, as well.” The hand slowly ran itself around his body and to the front.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi sucked in a horrified gasp as tears budded in his eyes. He shook as his hands scrubbed, up and down, back and forth, an iron grip on the sponge. The buzz from the lightbulb was deafening. He wanted to reach up and punch it out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, after what felt like eons, he placed the final dish in the drying rack and ripped off his gloves, shoving them under the sink. He practically lunged away from the sink and began to turn towards the stairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keiji,” she spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stopped, chest heaving. Though his eyes were wet and his resolve was crumbling, he hadn’t started crying yet. He didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You aren’t going to give your mother a goodnight kiss?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood motionless for a few seconds, mind processing. Then, face red, body trembling, he slowly walked over and gave her a halfhearted kiss on the cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His throat felt tight. She was wearing her expression, the one that he could never describe but knew by heart. Eyebrows slightly scrunched, the corners of her lips slightly curled. It was the same expression every time she did this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi ran upstairs to his room.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Bokuto was already on Akaashi’s bed, tapping away on his phone, when he got upstairs and gently closed the door behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey babe,” he chirped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi grunted in response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto laughed. “That tired?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are you texting?” he asked in response, still feeling dizzy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kuroo. Kenma’s doing a charity stream for the holidays and apparently, he has to stay up for, like, a whole day straight. He says, and I quote, ‘I love him but there are only so many Play of the Game’s I can watch before my eyeballs start to bleed’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Akaashi responded. He looked around his room, head feeling too heavy, as if it would roll off his shoulders at any moment. Time felt sped up but incredibly slow at the same time. He looked down. He was still in his nice clothes, but he didn’t feel like getting naked in front of another person right now, nor leaving the room. So, sleeping in his clothes it was, then. “Can I turn off the lights?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure!” Bokuto smiled and sent off one last text before locking his phone and setting it down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi flipped the switch off and lightly set his phone and glasses where he knew his desk was and climbed in next to Bokuto. He was just about as far away as he could get, which wasn’t much given the size of the bed. He couldn’t handle being touched right now, even by his boyfriend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Bokuto noticed, he didn’t say anything about it. He sighed happily. “Why don’t we visit here more often? Your mom’s cooking is </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>good.” He was laying on his back staring at the ceiling, and Bokuto was as well. In the streetlight from the window, he could see him turn his head to look at Akaashi. “And it’s nice to have some nostalgia from high school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi was silent. He tried to think of some response, but the words didn’t come. His heart sped up as he stared blankly at the ceiling. Now, on top of everything, he was ruining Bokuto’s holiday by acting like this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto huffed beside him, finally noticing Akaashi’s behavior. “Keijiiii. I know you aren’t asleep. I can see your eyes open.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scooted over and threw himself onto his boyfriend, enveloping him in a hug. On most nights, this would be fine. Actually, it would be more than fine. Akaashi would giggle and plant kisses on his neck and Bokuto would laugh and pick him up until he was on top of him and they would be lovely and happy. But, tonight wasn’t most nights.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His skin seared at Bokuto’s touch as if he had been poked by a lump of flaming coal. He frantically pushed at him, his heart hammering with each second that their skin was in contact. Bokuto showed only a moment of confusion before immediately getting off and all but flying to the other side of the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi whispered weakly. “I don’t want to be touched tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence in the room was deafening. He was still staring at the ceiling, but he could feel Bokuto’s eyes boring into him from the side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” he spoke after a long while. “Keiji, what-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Noh” he cut him off urgently. The sound of that name, the name his mother called him, made his head crack into two. He couldn’t handle it right now. “Please, Bokuto-san. Don’t call me that right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More silence. Then, “Alright, Akaashi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t bear to look at Bokuto now, even if he wanted to. He knew he would be met with hurt eyes and a downturned mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Names were important to Akaashi. Sacred, even. He was meticulous with honorifics. His parents had taught him that trait as politeness, but he kept it into adulthood as a way to keep distance. Kuroo-san, Konoha-san, Miya-san. Never let people in, use the honorific as a reminder that they weren’t all that close after all. Bokuto was the only person outside of his family to break the barrier, the wall that Akaashi had put up around himself. And oh, Keiji loved it. He remembers when he called Koutarou by his given name for the first time, during Bokuto’s graduation, and by association, his confession. It made Akaashi’s face go red as if </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>were the one confessing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once he said it once, he never went back. It was a constant reminder of how close they were, the way that Koutarou knew him in a way no one else did. He still referred to him as ‘Bokuto-san’ in public and around friends and family, but he hadn’t referred to Koutarou in private as anything but his given name since high school.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until now, that is. The wall was back up. For all the things Bokuto had missed tonight, Akaashi knew he wouldn’t miss this one, and he knew he would be hurt by it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lungs burned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened, Akaashi?” Bokuto spoke, uncharacteristically quiet and patient.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi whimpered, </span>
  <em>
    <span>whimpered</span>
  </em>
  <span>, in response and turned his head away from his boyfriend in embarrassment. Embarrassment about what had happened, embarrassment about how he was just pathetically sitting here making this all about him. He shuddered in a breath and his eyes stung, and- </span>
  <em>
    <span>no, no. He would not </span>
  </em>
  <span>cry </span>
  <em>
    <span>on top of everything else.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His body didn’t obey. His arm flew to his mouth just in time to muffle a sob, and he felt relief that his mother’s room was on the other side of the house, too far to hear this, too far to come and reprimand him for making such a scene over something that he had only imagined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted nothing more than to bury himself in Bokuto’s arms and let him hold him and keep him safe. He would know just what to say and just how to caress him to make his mind slow down. But as life was cruel, he couldn’t do that right now. No matter how much he wanted it, he knew that touch right now would send him further down a spiral. His skin still tingled with the previous overstimulation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Bokuto soothed, tone firm and quiet. “It’s alright, Ke- Akaashi. It’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto resituated himself on the bed and Akaashi curled in on himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stop that, idiot, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he mentally berated himself. Bokuto would never hurt him like his mother did. That didn’t stop the gut reaction of fear, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His boyfriend picked up on his reaction and froze. It made Akaashi want to cry harder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, how about we try a breathing exercise?” Bokuto suggested, tone veering on desperate. “Like we do all the time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi didn’t respond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Akaashi?” Quiet and kind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gulped another shuddering breath and shook his head. There was no way he could control his breaths right now. He still felt like he was drowning and his childhood bedroom was full of water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s alright, that’s okay, that’s fine,” Bokuto soothed. Akaashi knew he was panicking, despite his efforts to keep his voice calm. He knew he was stressing about how to soothe him now that Akaashi had rejected his idea, and he hated it, hated it that Bokuto was worrying over him. He debated, suddenly, getting up and leaving. He didn’t know where, but if he were to leave, his boyfriend could have a good night’s sleep and Akaashi could just wait out whatever </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>was. Then again, he wasn’t sure he had the energy to get out of the bed right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about a grounding exercise?” Bokuto asked. This was something familiar to both of them. Typically, however, it was Akaashi walking Bokuto through it, not the other way around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi was silent. His head was still spinning, and he couldn’t focus on anything, let alone his room-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, Akaashi?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, well, Akaashi could never say no.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a deep breath. “My closet doorknob,” his voice trembled, reciting the first thing his eyes landed on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto hummed in approval, urging him to keep going.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uhm- your suitcase. The picture of us. My- my glasses.” Akaashi paused. “How- how many is that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One more,” Bokuto urged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh-” He peered around his room, trying to find something else to say. He shifted his body, and wide, golden eyes met his own in the darkness. “You.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto huffed out an exhale, a smile wide on his face. Akaashi was partially right. His eyes definitely looked worried, but he didn’t have the pity-filled expression he figured he would. Mostly, he just looked like he was relieved that Akaashi was going along with his attempts at comfort. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Akaashi, great. I could just </span>
  <em>
    <span>kiss </span>
  </em>
  <span>you right now-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi stiffened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyebrows shot up. “But- but, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>won’t, </span>
  </em>
  <span>because you don’t want that right now. Which is absolutely fine,” he backpedaled. “Um- Four things you can hear?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your voice.” That in and of itself soothed Akaashi. He was pretty sure Bokuto’s voice could cut through whatever mental fog Akaashi was stuck in, no matter what it was. “My breathing.” A buzz from the floorboards. “The heating.” A whistle from the window. “The wind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you’re doing so great, Akaashi,” Bokuto beamed. “Three things you can feel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi’s breath hitched at that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Things you can feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>right now</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Forget about anything else,” Bokuto said lightly, and- how would he know that? How did he know that was what was bugging Akaashi? Did he know about-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Akaashi,” Bokuto spoke, once again breaking him out of his spiral.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallowed. “The bedsheets.” He exhaled, long and shaky. “My face is wet. And I can feel my shirt sleeves against my arms.” And, when he really thought about it, he couldn’t feel the touches from earlier. They were earlier. Not now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great, Akaashi,” Bokuto enthused. “So close to being done. Now, two-” He paused. “What were the last ones again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi laughed, wet and quiet. Of course Bokuto would forget this halfway through. “Smell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, right,” Bokuto grinned. “I always forget that one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your cologne, and our detergent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” he exclaimed. “And the last one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The food from earlier.” He paused. “Only a little, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too,” Bokuto laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi sighed. He felt a lot better now, less like his skull was going to explode or his skin was going to slough off at the slightest brush. He tentatively scooted over to his boyfriend and placed an experimental hand on his arm. Seeing as they didn’t both burst into flames, he wrapped him into a hug, burying his head in Bokuto’s large chest. He felt safe. “Thank you, Koutarou. Please call me Keiji again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto was unmoving beneath him, his arms held out straight. “That’s- I’m so proud of you for getting through the grounding exercise, Keiji. I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too. Please hold me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At his word, Koutarou engulfed him in a bone-crushing embrace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Keiji whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t do that, Keiji,” Bokuto whispered, holding him firmly to his chest, as if he were to let him go he would shatter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, more insistent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto shushed him and lightly ran his fingers in nonsensical patterns on his back, making a shiver run down his spine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was nice, like this. Bokuto’s arms seemed big enough to protect him from his mother or whatever other bullshit the world threw at him. His relationship with his boyfriend left him with a sense of contentment; Koutarou could see Keiji right down to his essence, and Keiji could see right back. That intensity should probably have scared him, but it never did. Sometimes Akaashi wondered where he ended and Bokuto began. Not physically, of course. They each had their own lives and ambitions, but there wasn’t a thing that the pair didn’t share with each other. They were unmistakably and foundationally intertwined in each other’s lives. If Bokuto were to ever be removed from his life, he certainly would crumble, as if someone plucked a brick from the bottom of a tall tower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There wasn’t a thing the pair didn’t share with each other. They blossomed through high school volleyball together. They based career and life decisions off the other. They shared friends, days off, movies, new restaurants, travel plans, family reunions, holiday celebrations, cooking, dreams, walks, drunken showers, grocery shopping, love. What little parts of their life were separate were shared over dinner each night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They lay there for quite a while, silent and present, long enough that Akaashi wouldn’t be surprised if Bokuto had fallen asleep, had it not been for his fingers still drawing loops on his back. The fabric made his skin tingle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She touched me, Kou,” Akaashi whispered softly enough for the whole world to hear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hand on his back stopped. His skin ached with loss.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is it, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought. Bokuto was going to pull away and treat Akaashi with the fragility he feared. It would never be the same, and it was all Akaashi’s fault. Even if they worked through this, it would never be the same. Bokuto’s heart was too big. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I hug you again?” Bokuto asked in a very un-Bokuto-like way, quiet and tone unreadable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi’s heart ached. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He never would have asked before. </span>
  </em>
  <span>His boyfriend remained motionless until Akaashi nodded, to which he was engulfed in another larger than life hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, silence. There were crickets outside. The heater kicked on again from somewhere beneath them. Akaashi’s breaths were considerably more haggard than his boyfriend’s. But, other than that, there was nothing. Even the hand on his back never returned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It made Akaashi squirm. He wished he would say something, </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Even a statement of outright pity. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I feel so sorry for you, Akaashi. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Even something insensitive and rude. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Are you sure that’s the truth, Akaashi? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Even if he tried to change the subject. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We should probably head to bed now, Akaashi. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Anything would at least throw a stick into the whirring cogs of his brain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His chest seized as sudden and immense regret hit him. Maybe he never should have told him. If only he could have just gotten through this moment of weakness, then this never would have happened. They would have slept peacefully and Akaashi could have made up some story about holiday stress, and Akaashi Keiji and Bokuto Koutarou could continue to be completely fine. He couldn’t take it back, though. There was no </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually, just kidding! </span>
  </em>
  <span>this one. Bokuto was too smart for that, especially considering the fact that he had just recovered from a massive panic attack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Bokuto were the moon, then Akaashi thought they were intertwined because he had learned every crater of Bokuto, every facet of the planet he looked at each night. But, this was the dark side of the moon that he had no clue even existed. Bokuto had never acted like this before, so quiet and calm. There were no panicked attempts at comfort now. Akaashi had the terrifying thought that maybe they weren’t actually as close as he thought they were.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He needed to fix this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushed himself upwards (he cringed as Bokuto’s arms loosened far too quickly) and smashed his lips against his boyfriend’s. The older man inhaled sharply in surprise before kissing back hesitantly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Good, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Akaashi thought. His hands were still not on his back. It made his skin itch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi wasted no time in furthering his mission. He reached a hand up and rubbed across Bokuto’s chest before slowly trailing it down to his groin. Akaashi moaned into his boyfriend’s mouth as he grabbed at his soft cock, willing it to get hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His chest caved in as he was lightly pushed away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, hey. Keiji,” Bokuto whispered, eyes wide and trained on his face. “I- don’t think we should do that, right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anger spiked through him, his hands flying up to tug on his hair as his eyes stung. “I can’t- I don’t know what you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>thinking, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Kou. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t, </span>
  </em>
  <span>I can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>this, not when you’re-” his voice shuddered. “If you’re going to think I’m some fragile thing that will just </span>
  <em>
    <span>break </span>
  </em>
  <span>if you touch me, then I- I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>broken, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Kou, I’m not, but I won’t be able to stand it if you think I am. I shouldn’t have-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keiji,” Bokuto frowned as if this were the saddest thing he had ever heard. He reached up to gently wrestle his hands out of his hair, intertwining their fingers instead. “Do you really think that I’ll think you’re broken?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi couldn’t look into his eyes right now, so he didn’t. He focused on their hands, intertwined, keeping them close in this moment of incredible emotional distance. Bokuto rubbed his thumb against his palm. “Yes. I could just tell. Don’t ask how.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keiji...Keiji, please look at me,” Bokuto whispered. He squeezed his fingers. Akaashi looked up, his racing heart beating even faster upon eye contact. His spiraling thoughts were stilled once Bokuto opened his mouth again. “I don’t think you’re broken. I could never think that, not when you’re the strongest person I know. What happened with your mom, Keiji, that’s- I can’t even begin to understand how that must have felt for you, how it feels for you. I’m so sorry that happened to you. You really don’t deserve that, Keiji. I’m sorry for- I was a little shocked when you told me, honestly, because it makes me so sad that you were hurt like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for telling me, Keiji. I love you so fucking much, and we can talk about it again or never talk about it again, it’s all up to you. I, really, thank you for letting me know. You’re so strong, Keiji, but not because of this, you know? You’re strong despite this. Like, the world threw all this shit at you and you’re still the amazing Akaashi Keiji, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi was pretty sure he started to cry the minute Bokuto opened his mouth, but by the time he finished he was fully sobbing into his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m proud of you,” he whispered into his ear. His hands had returned, rubbing soothing circles into his back once again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi sobbed in response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto rubbed his back through it. Let his sobs turn to sniffles, his breathing turn slow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” Akaashi whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, too,” Bokuto whispered back. “If...you don’t want to be here tomorrow, we can find an excuse to leave for my parents’ house early. Or, we could even just go back to our apartment. My parents can handle one holiday with just my sisters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi shook his head. “Thank you, but it’s fine for now. Just... don’t confront her about it or anything, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never, Keiji.” He shook his head adamantly. “Unless, that is, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted </span>
  </em>
  <span>me to...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am a bit interested to know what protective Koutarou looks like,” Akaashi mused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what he looks like,” Bokuto laughed. “Remember that one guy at Fukurodani?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need to be more specific, Kou.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The locker room guy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okubo-san?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Him</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Bokuto’s thick eyebrows furrowed in exaggerated anger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You beat him up, Koutarou.” Akaashi rolled his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did,” Bokuto confirmed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t beat up my mother, Koutarou.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can if you tell me to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi snorted. “I’ll keep you posted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto winked at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They fell into a fit of giggles together. Legs, arms, hearts intertwined. Akaashi felt intimately close to him once again. It made him soar. “I love you,” he sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you more, Keiji.” He met his eyes. “But really, Keiji, talk to me. I’m here to support you. I won’t try any white knight stuff.” He paused. “Unless that’s what you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi thought he had never looked more beautiful than this moment. Glowing in the lamplight from the street, hair mussed against the pillow, a hopeful smile on his face. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t say thank you for something you deserve.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight, Koutarou.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight, Keiji.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so they slept, tangled together, skin-to-skin, soul-to-soul.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i hc that bokuto went to therapy in college to help with his mood swings and is now weirdly trauma informed and emotionally stable.</p><p>the grounding exercise they use is one that is my personal favorite, called 5-4-3-2-1. you are supposed to list 5 things you can see, 4 you can hear, 3 you can touch, 2 you can smell, and one you can taste. this helps bring you back to the present moment, and i highly recommend it if you are ever in a position to need it.</p><p>please take a few moments to check in with yourself and make sure you're feeling alright. consider visiting one of these websites if you need some support. <a href="https://www.rainn.org">rainn</a> <a href="https://www.stopitnow.org/ohc-content/resources-and-support-for-adults-who-experienced-sexual-abuse-as-children">resources for adult survivors of csa</a> <a href="https://www.healthline.com/health/how-to-stop-a-panic-attack#2.-Recognize-that-youre-having-a-panic-attack">panic attack help</a> <a href="https://www.beautyafterbruises.org/blog/flashbacks">flashback/ptsd help</a> <a href="https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org">suicide prevention lifeline</a></p><p>if you hadn't already guessed, i am a survivor of child sexual abuse and rape (as an adult) and my situation is very similar to Akaashi's. my dms and comment section are open to anyone who would like to chat. we are stronger together and we are not defined by our past abuse.</p><p>i will be moderating the comment section to keep everyone safe, but please be kind because i will still have to read them ;-; also, i have had a few people comment and ask that i never post it. That is one hundred percent fine and i still read them all and love you all &lt;3 thank you for all your kind words. since posting this i have learned that none of us are alone in our experiences. we are all stronger than our pasts.</p><p>also, this is technically in the same universe as <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28304844">nobody</a> although the plots have no bearing on each other.</p><p>come hang out with me on <a href="https://www.twitter.com/sugaxyy">twitter</a>. consider leaving a kudos or comment if you liked the fic!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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